I don’t want to be someone's pawn. And at that the devil’s pawn. I knew I would go to hell but not become his hand.

I am a selfish man and I know it with my heart.

When I was coming home with scratches and bruises all over my body. My poor mother would say that I am not right in the head and then tend to my wound to the best of her abilities, even if she was tired and the blisters from factory work hurt.

My father said that I should think before I start something. “The animal acts by its instinct and prior knowledge but can’t think of the outcome. Boy. Are you an animal? ”

The old man was a thinker, always cautious. When we would go to the store he would make a list from home and never stray from it. We wanted candy, he would show us the list and say “Do you see candy written here boys?” It never was, and my brother would scream his lungs, and make a fuss in front of other customers.

Their eyes embarrassed me to the core but the old man was made of something else, he never beaten us, never screamed. Never disciplined us in that manner as some other parents did to their children.

To be honest I never saw him get mad in the literal sense. But his way shook well because I could see his expression and where it was supposed to be anger was a disappointment. A chilling stare that pierced your body and made you think about your actions for the next couple of days.

Mom, the complete opposite, would buy candy and sweets whenever we went outside. She always scolded us for the slightest misdeed, but was a gentle, warm soul.

Ah, my brother he did inherit his mother’s temperament and father’s wit and analytical thinking.

Such a softie tho. But now that I am thinking.

I’m sorry.

I lied to you.

My father... I saw him mad once.

A kid took my brother’s ball and did not want to return it. I am sorry I wasn’t beside him then, but we were running different friend circles.

I was two years older. I was 15 and he was 13. I received a bike that summer and he received one month later a computer. I never was into those but we would play together on it from time to time.

The computer wasn’t the problem.

But a football he received from his godfather the same day. To make the story short, he went out and play with some friends and some of their friends.

One of them took his ball and asked to borrow it. No fuss until here, but the shit storm started when he wanted it back. The kid said “Next day” and then that he forgot and in the end, my brother went to the kid's house to ask his parents for the ball.

Nobody answered, they saw him I am sure of it. Why did I know that? Because my brother went and took the ball and when he wanted to leave the kid’s father exited the house and stopped my brother to leave. Long story short the kid had the nerve and told his father that he brought the ball from my brother.

Of course, he believed his spawn and both went inside leaving my brother in front of the door, and when my brother pleaded, begged, and cried in front of them. His father rushed and slapped him so hard that he send him flying down.

I can remember when he came back. I was reading some of my dad’s magazines laid back on the puffy carpet in the living room.

One hand over the swollen scratched cheek and a blank stare.

I asked him what happened without seeing the blood between his fingers. He looked at me and said “I don’t know. I did nothing wrong!” and broke into tears.

He told me everything, and I went ballistic. I even planned to go at night and break every window of that bastard's house. Well, I was just a kid I knew I couldn’t beat a grown man. So this much was enough of a payback.

Our old man came home early that day. One of the neighbor’s wife called my father at work saying that something happened to his youngling. My brother was so shocked that he went home with that devious stare and ignored anyone on his path.

Mother taught us to be respectful and we always salute first your elders. Don’t talk with strangers and such.

The old man said nothing and I explained the story word by word how my brother told me.

My old man had the same face, the same mannerisms of a statue.

All he said was “You didn’t sell the ball to the kid?”

And my brother said plainly “No.”

They went back in forth my father asking basic questions and my brother responding with only yes and no leaving his eyesight on the ground.

“Did you lend him the ball?”

“Yes”

“Did the kid hit you?”

“No.”

“The father of that brat hit you?”

“Yes”

“The ball you got it back?”

“No. The kid took it and went inside with it.”

“Were you disrespectful in any way?”

“I cried for it”.

My father looked at me and my brother and said to us. “We are going to take back your ball.”

We went inside the car and drove to that guy’s house. Me and my father went in front and my brother sat in the back not making eye contact with either of us on the road.

Arriving at the guy’s house my father pulled over on the other side of the road and said to me

“Get your brother’s ball back.”

I nodded and went to do the exact thing my father said like it was a supreme command.

The kid’s house was a simple one-level house but it was clean, a well-maintained lawn and with some flowers whose name I don’t know in front of the walls under the windows. They were purple and smelled really nice from what I remember.

I am sure my brother went the polite way waiting if the front of the yard yelling the kid’s name and because he saw the yard gate open looked inside and took the ball, thinking that nobody would mind knowing it was his ball.

Well, I am not my brother, I stormed inside the yard and went up the porch’s stairs beating on the door. I forgot to ask the kid's name or their family name so I was just beating on the door and saying, “Hello! Is someone home.”

The kid opened the door after I berated the door with my punches.

“Yes?” said the kid.

“I am here for my brother’s ball”

“What ball. He gave it to me.”

“We both know you are lying here. I know him and he doesn’t lie, he never lies because he doesn’t have a reason to lie. Always saves money and if he wanted he could buy another ball at any second. The reason why he wants that ball is because it is a gift.”

My brother always attached too easily to things. When he broke up with his girlfriend, he crashed at my place for a month and all he did was sleep and eat so that cursed ball meant a lot for him and he meant a lot for me.

And when I saw the nerve of the kid pushing me. The kid was more than two heads below me and had the nerve...

“Bugger off. Is your head as empty as your brother’s? The ball is mine go home.”

I lost it. Like I always do and I grabbed the kid by the t-shirt and punched him in the gut.

“My brother is the smart one. He might be mellow but you see we like to resolve problems in different manners.” I said as saliva drooled from the corner of his mouth, his face becoming a grimace. He went to cover his stomach but in the next moment, I pushed him into the door as hard as I could.

He saw me closing the gap I created between us and went inside screaming.

“Father!!!”

I saw his father coming from the right, probably from the kitchen. I went down the porch into the alleyway and I shouted.

“Hey! Give me my brother’s ball we can leave it on good terms. I would even forgive that you touched my brother.”

I wasn’t really thinking at the moment, I beat his kid and he was going straight at me with his fists clenched and I was still hoping that it was even the possibility to get that ball back and leave unscathed.

“I went easy on the crybaby of a brother. That snot-beggar got easy with a hand or two. I will teach you manners if your parents did not have the common sense to!

I was at a disadvantage and I wasn’t dreaming that I could win against him. I knew that I couldn’t get the ball from the kid but I wanted him to feel a bit of pain for what he did to my father.

I ran through the gate and he followed. I went right to my father’s car without even looking my back, but then I heard a thunder-like sound and threw a quick look back.

I stopped in my tracks, there wasn’t a reason anymore to run.

If I could describe my father in one word that one would be a colossus, in the literal sense. His palm could cover one man’s face completely and I never saw someone taller than him.

One could say he was a professional fighter, not an office worker.

My man did not see it coming, one slap threw him to the ground. The man’s ass hit the pavement and when he came back to himself he was covered by a huge shadow.

“Wake up. I am not done with you.” said my father not working a muscle on his shaved face.

“Who the fuck are you?!” said the man with a tremble in his voice.

“The boys’ father.”

He did not wait for a response and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt.

“Bring me the ball, don’t play the smart guy or I make you chew on it.”

“Yes. Tudor bring him the football.” shouted the man and the kid who was watching from behind the house door.

The kid threw the ball on the alleyway and I went and took it putting it under my arm.

“Now that we are done with this. Do you want to bring the sense into my children? You teach them manners?”

“I- “

I knew one thing. Father snapped. He hit and he hit hard one punch in the face, one in the gut, one in the face, one in the gut, and stopped only when blood shot out of the guy’s nostrils. My father’s punch was covered in blood and he cleaned it on the man’s shirt. The man was on the verge of collapsing.

“Now go back inside the house clean yourself, and change into a new fresh pair of clothes. You are full of blood, dirt, and sweat. It is a bad way to present yourself.”

My father pushed the man inside the yard and he stumbled on his feet and looked with an angry grimace at us.

“What’s with that face. Look here into my eyes. Look well. If you make me lose another day at work by calling the police. You will have to leave town.”

The man got inside the house more like a dog on his paws than a man.

My father said to me.

“Let’s get back to the car.” And I nodded going back to the car where my brother watched the latter part until now.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

My father went into the driver seat moving his hands over the steering wheel, heavily exhaling

“Give your brother the ball.”

And so I did, but my brother threw it beside him at the back of my seat.

“I’m sorry father. It’s just a ball but-”

“It was your ball.”

“Yes, father.”

“You brothers are like water and oil. But you need to learn to mix. Learn from each other’s shortcomings. Vlad you are sensible and people will try to take advantage and you Damian are a walking menace not thinking what your actions will bring upon you. But. You are my boys so I will be there when you need me. I know I am not the greatest father. At least this much I can do.”

At that moment my father stroke me in a way that I had never ever seen my father saying such things.

In a way, I knew I had to change because I saw myself in him in those moments. He was right and I hoped my brother saw the same thing.

That we needed to change. We stood in silence until my father oddly smiled like he never did.

“Boys, let’s get home, your mom will come home soon from work and we can’t let her see us like this.”

Before going home I had to ask.

“Won’t he call the police?”

“He will, but they can’t do anything about it.”

“I understand,” I said even though I was confused.

“Also, Vlad you fell off the bike.”

My brother knew what was my father’s intention and did not say a word and just nodded.

We did as father told us, as we got back all took a bath one after the other and father patched up my brother’s face. And I went as if nothing unusual happened.

When my mother got home we both got scolded. My brother only said sorry and I complained that things happen.

My father was right. The police never came to our step. They would usually do so when I did something.

Oh, and I broke with rocks that guy’s front windows one month later in the middle of a rainy night. And that kid avoided me and my brother like the plague. I saw his father once and he went on the other side of the road.

Things changed after that. Vlad became weirdly close to me, a bit too close. He would follow me anywhere and even participate in some of my misdeeds.

Well, he participated in the mild ones. But he also changed me. I started to take his advice and back out of conflict more often.

Well as often as I could.

We both grew up.

He became a successful persecutor, married in his mid-twenties has two children, two beautiful children. And they still invited me to come by.

My parents passed away. Both of old age, my mom at 81 and my father a year ago at 92. I visited him whenever I could as he moved to an old people home by his own choice saying that he was afraid that someone will find him dead.

About me. What can I say I did what I did to survive and to be honest I knew I would get to do what I did in one way or another.

I was in my 50s leaving alone in a dusted apartment leaving my last days...

What did I do in the meantime?

I got married and had one girl. My wife, my biggest regret. She was wonderful and my best friend. She would cook me my favorite dishes whenever she could. Was there at my lows and there at my highs. We promised that we will never keep secrets from each other.

I had mine. I was leaving for months only talking on the phone in some of them. One day she asked if I was cheating.

I wasn’t. I said I had work, but I couldn’t tell her and she believed me.

We divorced two years later, and she said the waiting is too much for her knowing that one day I might not come back. She was right and we separated and took our daughter with her.

She found someone else two years later. But we remained friends and even if it was uncomfortable to see him next to her. He genuinely loved her.

I stopped visiting after my daughter was 10. She had two more children and I couldn’t bare it anymore. I still loved her.

I got more and more work and it got a toll on me not going to lie.

Now why am telling you this? I don’t know. But I want to tell something now that I am far, far away from them. I am not even myself anymore.

I miss them all, and now I know I can’t tell them how much I miss them.

They won’t send me back, they said my body is no more. That what remained of Damian is only ash. They gave me no directive and said to wait. I don’t like waiting

Fuck I never felt more alone.

Prologue

I don’t want to be someone's pawn. And at that the devil’s pawn. I knew I would go to hell but not become his hand.

I am a selfish man and I know it with my heart.

When I was coming home with scratches and bruises all over my body. My poor mother would say that I am not right in the head and then tend to my wound to the best of her abilities, even if she was tired and the blisters from factory work hurt.

My father said that I should think before I start something. “The animal acts by its instinct and prior knowledge but can’t think of the outcome. Boy. Are you an animal? ”

The old man was a thinker, always cautious. When we would go to the store he would make a list from home and never stray from it. We wanted candy, he would show us the list and say “Do you see candy written here boys?” It never was, and my brother would scream his lungs, and make a fuss in front of other customers.

Their eyes embarrassed me to the core but the old man was made of something else, he never beaten us, never screamed. Never disciplined us in that manner as some other parents did to their children.

To be honest I never saw him get mad in the literal sense. But his way shook well because I could see his expression and where it was supposed to be anger was a disappointment. A chilling stare that pierced your body and made you think about your actions for the next couple of days.

Mom, the complete opposite, would buy candy and sweets whenever we went outside. She always scolded us for the slightest misdeed, but was a gentle, warm soul.

Ah, my brother he did inherit his mother’s temperament and father’s wit and analytical thinking.

Such a softie tho. But now that I am thinking.

I’m sorry.

I lied to you.

My father... I saw him mad once.

A kid took my brother’s ball and did not want to return it. I am sorry I wasn’t beside him then, but we were running different friend circles.

I was two years older. I was 15 and he was 13. I received a bike that summer and he received one month later a computer. I never was into those but we would play together on it from time to time.

The computer wasn’t the problem.

But a football he received from his godfather the same day. To make the story short, he went out and play with some friends and some of their friends.

One of them took his ball and asked to borrow it. No fuss until here, but the shit storm started when he wanted it back. The kid said “Next day” and then that he forgot and in the end, my brother went to the kid's house to ask his parents for the ball.

Nobody answered, they saw him I am sure of it. Why did I know that? Because my brother went and took the ball and when he wanted to leave the kid’s father exited the house and stopped my brother to leave. Long story short the kid had the nerve and told his father that he brought the ball from my brother.

Of course, he believed his spawn and both went inside leaving my brother in front of the door, and when my brother pleaded, begged, and cried in front of them. His father rushed and slapped him so hard that he send him flying down.

I can remember when he came back. I was reading some of my dad’s magazines laid back on the puffy carpet in the living room.

One hand over the swollen scratched cheek and a blank stare.

I asked him what happened without seeing the blood between his fingers. He looked at me and said “I don’t know. I did nothing wrong!” and broke into tears.

He told me everything, and I went ballistic. I even planned to go at night and break every window of that bastard's house. Well, I was just a kid I knew I couldn’t beat a grown man. So this much was enough of a payback.

Our old man came home early that day. One of the neighbor’s wife called my father at work saying that something happened to his youngling. My brother was so shocked that he went home with that devious stare and ignored anyone on his path.

Mother taught us to be respectful and we always salute first your elders. Don’t talk with strangers and such.

The old man said nothing and I explained the story word by word how my brother told me.

My old man had the same face, the same mannerisms of a statue.

All he said was “You didn’t sell the ball to the kid?”

And my brother said plainly “No.”

They went back in forth my father asking basic questions and my brother responding with only yes and no leaving his eyesight on the ground.

“Did you lend him the ball?”

“Yes”

“Did the kid hit you?”

“No.”

“The father of that brat hit you?”

“Yes”

“The ball you got it back?”

“No. The kid took it and went inside with it.”

“Were you disrespectful in any way?”

“I cried for it”.

My father looked at me and my brother and said to us. “We are going to take back your ball.”

We went inside the car and drove to that guy’s house. Me and my father went in front and my brother sat in the back not making eye contact with either of us on the road.

Arriving at the guy’s house my father pulled over on the other side of the road and said to me

“Get your brother’s ball back.”

I nodded and went to do the exact thing my father said like it was a supreme command.

The kid’s house was a simple one-level house but it was clean, a well-maintained lawn and with some flowers whose name I don’t know in front of the walls under the windows. They were purple and smelled really nice from what I remember.

I am sure my brother went the polite way waiting if the front of the yard yelling the kid’s name and because he saw the yard gate open looked inside and took the ball, thinking that nobody would mind knowing it was his ball.

Well, I am not my brother, I stormed inside the yard and went up the porch’s stairs beating on the door. I forgot to ask the kid's name or their family name so I was just beating on the door and saying, “Hello! Is someone home.”

The kid opened the door after I berated the door with my punches.

“Yes?” said the kid.

“I am here for my brother’s ball”

“What ball. He gave it to me.”

“We both know you are lying here. I know him and he doesn’t lie, he never lies because he doesn’t have a reason to lie. Always saves money and if he wanted he could buy another ball at any second. The reason why he wants that ball is because it is a gift.”

My brother always attached too easily to things. When he broke up with his girlfriend, he crashed at my place for a month and all he did was sleep and eat so that cursed ball meant a lot for him and he meant a lot for me.

And when I saw the nerve of the kid pushing me. The kid was more than two heads below me and had the nerve...

“Bugger off. Is your head as empty as your brother’s? The ball is mine go home.”

I lost it. Like I always do and I grabbed the kid by the t-shirt and punched him in the gut.

“My brother is the smart one. He might be mellow but you see we like to resolve problems in different manners.” I said as saliva drooled from the corner of his mouth, his face becoming a grimace. He went to cover his stomach but in the next moment, I pushed him into the door as hard as I could.

He saw me closing the gap I created between us and went inside screaming.

“Father!!!”

I saw his father coming from the right, probably from the kitchen. I went down the porch into the alleyway and I shouted.

“Hey! Give me my brother’s ball we can leave it on good terms. I would even forgive that you touched my brother.”

I wasn’t really thinking at the moment, I beat his kid and he was going straight at me with his fists clenched and I was still hoping that it was even the possibility to get that ball back and leave unscathed.

“I went easy on the crybaby of a brother. That snot-beggar got easy with a hand or two. I will teach you manners if your parents did not have the common sense to!

I was at a disadvantage and I wasn’t dreaming that I could win against him. I knew that I couldn’t get the ball from the kid but I wanted him to feel a bit of pain for what he did to my father.

I ran through the gate and he followed. I went right to my father’s car without even looking my back, but then I heard a thunder-like sound and threw a quick look back.

I stopped in my tracks, there wasn’t a reason anymore to run.

If I could describe my father in one word that one would be a colossus, in the literal sense. His palm could cover one man’s face completely and I never saw someone taller than him.

One could say he was a professional fighter, not an office worker.

My man did not see it coming, one slap threw him to the ground. The man’s ass hit the pavement and when he came back to himself he was covered by a huge shadow.

“Wake up. I am not done with you.” said my father not working a muscle on his shaved face.

“Who the fuck are you?!” said the man with a tremble in his voice.

“The boys’ father.”

He did not wait for a response and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt.

“Bring me the ball, don’t play the smart guy or I make you chew on it.”

“Yes. Tudor bring him the football.” shouted the man and the kid who was watching from behind the house door.

The kid threw the ball on the alleyway and I went and took it putting it under my arm.

“Now that we are done with this. Do you want to bring the sense into my children? You teach them manners?”

“I- “

I knew one thing. Father snapped. He hit and he hit hard one punch in the face, one in the gut, one in the face, one in the gut, and stopped only when blood shot out of the guy’s nostrils. My father’s punch was covered in blood and he cleaned it on the man’s shirt. The man was on the verge of collapsing.

“Now go back inside the house clean yourself, and change into a new fresh pair of clothes. You are full of blood, dirt, and sweat. It is a bad way to present yourself.”

My father pushed the man inside the yard and he stumbled on his feet and looked with an angry grimace at us.

“What’s with that face. Look here into my eyes. Look well. If you make me lose another day at work by calling the police. You will have to leave town.”

The man got inside the house more like a dog on his paws than a man.

My father said to me.

“Let’s get back to the car.” And I nodded going back to the car where my brother watched the latter part until now.

My father went into the driver seat moving his hands over the steering wheel, heavily exhaling

“Give your brother the ball.”

And so I did, but my brother threw it beside him at the back of my seat.

“I’m sorry father. It’s just a ball but-”

“It was your ball.”

“Yes, father.”

“You brothers are like water and oil. But you need to learn to mix. Learn from each other’s shortcomings. Vlad you are sensible and people will try to take advantage and you Damian are a walking menace not thinking what your actions will bring upon you. But. You are my boys so I will be there when you need me. I know I am not the greatest father. At least this much I can do.”

At that moment my father stroke me in a way that I had never ever seen my father saying such things.

In a way, I knew I had to change because I saw myself in him in those moments. He was right and I hoped my brother saw the same thing.

That we needed to change. We stood in silence until my father oddly smiled like he never did.

“Boys, let’s get home, your mom will come home soon from work and we can’t let her see us like this.”

Before going home I had to ask.

“Won’t he call the police?”

“He will, but they can’t do anything about it.”

“I understand,” I said even though I was confused.

“Also, Vlad you fell off the bike.”

My brother knew what was my father’s intention and did not say a word and just nodded.

We did as father told us, as we got back all took a bath one after the other and father patched up my brother’s face. And I went as if nothing unusual happened.

When my mother got home we both got scolded. My brother only said sorry and I complained that things happen.

My father was right. The police never came to our step. They would usually do so when I did something.

Oh, and I broke with rocks that guy’s front windows one month later in the middle of a rainy night. And that kid avoided me and my brother like the plague. I saw his father once and he went on the other side of the road.

Things changed after that. Vlad became weirdly close to me, a bit too close. He would follow me anywhere and even participate in some of my misdeeds.

Well, he participated in the mild ones. But he also changed me. I started to take his advice and back out of conflict more often.

Well as often as I could.

We both grew up.

He became a successful persecutor, married in his mid-twenties has two children, two beautiful children. And they still invited me to come by.

My parents passed away. Both of old age, my mom at 81 and my father a year ago at 92. I visited him whenever I could as he moved to an old people home by his own choice saying that he was afraid that someone will find him dead.

About me. What can I say I did what I did to survive and to be honest I knew I would get to do what I did in one way or another.

I was in my 50s leaving alone in a dusted apartment leaving my last days...

What did I do in the meantime?

I got married and had one girl. My wife, my biggest regret. She was wonderful and my best friend. She would cook me my favorite dishes whenever she could. Was there at my lows and there at my highs. We promised that we will never keep secrets from each other.

I had mine. I was leaving for months only talking on the phone in some of them. One day she asked if I was cheating.

I wasn’t. I said I had work, but I couldn’t tell her and she believed me.

We divorced two years later, and she said the waiting is too much for her knowing that one day I might not come back. She was right and we separated and took our daughter with her.

She found someone else two years later. But we remained friends and even if it was uncomfortable to see him next to her. He genuinely loved her.

I stopped visiting after my daughter was 10. She had two more children and I couldn’t bare it anymore. I still loved her.

I got more and more work and it got a toll on me not going to lie.

Now why am telling you this? I don’t know. But I want to tell something now that I am far, far away from them. I am not even myself anymore.

I miss them all, and now I know I can’t tell them how much I miss them.

They won’t send me back, they said my body is no more. That what remained of Damian is only ash. They gave me no directive and said to wait. I don’t like waiting

Fuck I never felt more alone.

I never realize it until it happened.